


The Wolf, the Bear, and the Serpent

by awhiskeycalledyou



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Angst, Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance | BSAA, Drug Use, Explicit Language, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29889888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awhiskeycalledyou/pseuds/awhiskeycalledyou
Summary: Totem AU.Set some time after Resident Evil: Village?Warning: First time writing RE fic.Chris gives Jake more of Wesker's personal effects and offers him a job with the BSAA.Tags will be updated as the story progresses.
Relationships: Chris Redfield/Albert Wesker
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	1. Little Bear

**Author's Note:**

> Not my characters, of course. I'm just playing with them. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ) 
> 
> I started playing the games again and my itch to write struck me hard.  
> I've rewritten and read the first two chapters several times. I hope this makes sense, and if it doesn't, I'll rewrite it again.
> 
> Enjoy.

__

_How long’s it been since I’ve seen him.  
_ _I should’ve kept in touch.  
_ _Sherry’s asked about him; so has Leon, Claire…  
_ _I had nothing to say._

_I hope he’s all right._

Nevada.  
2021

It was hot and dry and his clothes felt heavy; the silver case resting in his lap burned and blinded with the sun’s glare, so much that he lowered it to the ground, using his massive shadow to give it some relief. He couldn’t risk damaging the delicate contents of said case, no matter how badly he wanted to set it all on fire and destroy everything about _that_ _man_. The Wolf narrowed his eyes and glared into the empty space in front of him, realizing that meant him, too. _Don’t be stupid,_ _Chris,_ he told himself, a low growl leaving his throat in disgust at the dark thoughts that swam around in his head, as if the noise itself would scare them off, back to that little corner in his mind, stowed away for another day. It had been like that since the Serpent died – executed by his own hand. _It had to be done._ He justified his actions. “ _Were you just following orders or was it personal?” Both._

The Wolf glanced up and followed the nomads with a curious gaze as they walked by; his features remained hard and stoic, like the rocky monuments dotting the desert landscape, too proud to bend to the elements, too sane to give into those familiar urges, to shoot and kill. He knew better. They were Bio-Organic Weapons – survivors that had been collected from the laboratories. He watched some of them shoot up samples of their respective serum treatments underneath a communal tarp that billowed in the wind, creating that harsh, crinkly snap that grated on his nerves more and more, the longer he waited. They weren’t rude or hateful, despite the mammoth shit life had dropped on them; they were actually quite courteous and… _human_. How were they able to treat themselves, he wondered. How did they manage to develop the serums?

“Jake will see you now.”

He turned his golden stare to the young boy from Detroit. That was his name. _Detroit_. They were all named after cities or landmarks or animals. The virus had been gradually eating away at their brains, causing memory loss, so it was just easier to give them a new name; something that would also be lost, in time. _Is that how it will be for me,_ he mused, standing from his boulder throne, the case gripped firmly in his hand. Perhaps, everyone was different. Perhaps, the viruses had different ways of influencing the biology of its host. Perhaps, he would be spared the amnesia.

The Wolf followed Detroit to a tent and stepped inside, pushing his broad shoulders through the flaps of the door, creating another unwelcome sound that dove and twisted into his sensitive ears. The light swish of fabric on fabric acted like a doorbell that drew Jake’s attention from his laptop. He slowly rose from his desk.

“Chris. Long time, no see. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

_Little Bear._

The younger male was no longer the lanky spitfire he had met back in Edonia; he was a respected (and perhaps feared) leader, now. He seemed… calmer, more collected and calculating. There was a notebook next to the computer, formulas gracing the page in jagged script. The Wolf could see that brilliant mind churn behind those pretty blue eyes, like a master clock, ticking away, _like someone else_ _I_ _know_. But he was positive that Jake’s intentions were good, that the ice around his heart had melted _just a bit_ , thanks to Sherry Birkin and her persistence.

“Sorry, I guess I’m still processing.” _Y_ _ou look more like your father now, than you did – what, seven, eight years ago?_ At this rate, what good would it be to keep his relationship with Wesker top secret. His enemies would see the resemblance, would hear his name being called by his comrades when death tapped his shoulder. There was no hiding the truth; the truth always got out.

“Heh, sounds like _your_ problem.”

Jake had built up more muscle, he noticed. He filled out nicely and sported a healthy amount of stubble, like rust hugging the edge of sharply cut steel. His hair, once shaven, had now grown out and was kept buzzed on either side of a shortened mohawk; a bit on the redder side of strawberry blond. There was also the faint scent of cannabis in the air? _I guess everyone has their coping methods._ The larger man exhaled through his nose, as if to push the smell out, and stepped forward, placing the silver case on the mercenary’s desk.

“The hell is this?”

“Unfinished business,” the Wolf answered, gesturing to the case. “We found it while in Kijuju.”

Thin brows drew together; anxiety gripped at Jake and squeezed his throat as he opened it, sparing Chris one last glance. Triggered. The Wolf knew. There were stacks of documents and photographs, access cards for Umbrella and Tricell, a bloodied S.T.A.R.S. badge and military dog tags; a government-issued ID and a small, leather bound journal, held together by an old snap, the button engraved with an ‘AW.’ As if on autopilot, Jake removed a pair of sunglasses from his pocket – the same sunglasses Chris had given him before parting ways eight years ago. “Why did he keep all this? I understand the journal, but the rest of it?” He paused in his skimming of documents and photos, lifting his gaze to meet the Wolf’s. “If you hated him so much, why give this to me. Why give this to me _now._ Of course, the BSAA had to sift through it first, right?”

“Because you deserve to know who he was. And yes, we did, but nothing was taken. Your mother--” Chris held up his hand to silence Jake. _Let me finish._ “She kept things from you, clearly – even his name. I imagine she lied to you, to protect you, and when you finally discovered the truth, it was too late. He’s dead. Killed by _yours truly._ I would be pretty pissed, too, never getting the chance for closure. Look, I used to not… not think he was such a bad guy. I guess, part of me still thought of him as my captain, even when he was about to put a hole through my chest. I was heartbroken. I _still_ mourn. And then, I found you – the only part of Wesker left.” _A part of him I can’t destroy._ He paused, glancing to the sunglasses. “I don’t hate him. But I’m worried _you_ do.”

Jake squinted and curled up his lip. It was little details like that, the expressions, that made the Wolf’s heart palpitate in his chest. “He had to be _stopped_ ,” the redhead admitted calmly. “I get that part, you know. He wasn’t as good as you thought he was. He would have killed everyone and destroyed _everything_.” He sniffed in mild irritation, his voice catching in his throat as he absently turned the sunglasses over in his grasp – a nervous tick. He reached for another photograph, matching the shades with the ones his father wore in the picture. It was Albert and William. They were young. “I wonder, if he would have… done the things he did, if he knew I existed. Or, if I would have just been another experiment of his. Like what Sherry’s dad did with her.”

“…"

“I don’t hate him, to answer your question, but I hate what he’s done.” Jake slipped the sunglasses back into his breast pocket and plucked a joint from behind his ear before plopping onto his stool. “He was crazy, sure, but I don’t believe people are born evil,” he added, lighting it, taking a deep inhale, hoping to crush the emotional swell building in his chest. For a moment, the mercenary stared at the photo as he toked away on the one thing that brought him some _fucking peace_ nowadays. He was silent, the plume floating up to catch the beams of light that filtered in through the screens and gaps of the tent. His hand soon reached into the case again and drew out the journal, popping the snap. “There had to be something that messed him up,” he muttered, more to himself than to the Wolf standing across from him. “For fuck’s sake; sit down, Chris. You’re making me nervous.”


	2. Processing

_  
Three hours.  
_ _It was a long, emotional_ _analysis.  
_ _His reaction was_ _expected.  
_ _The_ _journal…  
  
_ _H_ _e didn’t take it well._

“I would give him maybe twenty minutes or so. He goes up there when he’s stressed or needs to think.” Detroit, ever the intelligent, thoughtful boy, had to explain Jake’s silent march to the rocky outcrop that loomed over the camp. Chris squinted at the hunched form sitting on the ground, now a silhouette against the darkening sky. There was already a large bonfire and the nomads were stationed around it, chatting and eating. He didn’t know where the meat came from; it was probably best not to ask. He offered Detroit a small smile, thanking him for his knowledge and hospitality, and watched the teen return to the group behind him.

The Wolf sighed. He would not be giving him twenty minutes. Chris’ feet carried him, each footfall heavy and fatigued, following the path to Jake’s perch. “Hey…” He settled next to him and glanced across the respectful gap he left between them. On the outside, he could see the mercenary was still hard around the edges, cold and spiteful, but he knew the truth, he knew what he was hiding; the boy was sensitive and troubled and traumatized, another victim of an unforgiving childhood, too young to grow up, a man before his time. And it would take more than Ms. Birkin to fully rehabilitate him. Chris could see the sharp angle of his cheek carried a damp trail that glistened in the fading light of the day, betraying that strong image he tried so desperately to cling to. He was an asshole, because he had to be, because he felt he had to protect himself. Guarded. _That’s why you did what you did, isn’t it, Albert. You were that boy, too._

“I’m sorry, you had to read that.”

“Why are you sorry. You didn’t write it. You didn’t live it.” Jake didn’t look at him.

“Because it was painful for you.”

“Painful… That’s an understatement.” The redhead paused to chew his lip, his composure crumbling by the second. “He was so _fucked_ in the head, Chris. He was a fucking psychopath. He needed… Heh, he needed help and no one would help him. They just saw this villain doing crazy, stupid things; they were cries for help and _no one wanted to listen._ ”

“I did.”

“Why did you kill him. Because you’re supposed to be the hero, right?”

The Wolf parted his lips to answer, to give an excuse, to argue over what it meant to be a hero, but when he noticed fresh tears racing down the man’s cheek, he looked away and shook his head. He chose his words carefully. “He had infected himself with Uroboros, overdosed on the PG67A/W serum – he was already lost, Jacob. He couldn’t be saved.”

Jake growled and turned his glare to the other male. “You had _years_.”

“Do you know how hard it was to get close to _Albert_ _Wesker_?” Chris raised his voice, gold meeting blue. “We would be two steps in and he would be five steps ahead of us. _Every._ _Goddamn._ _T_ _ime_. He was crafty. He had connections. We could only do so much with an enemy – an _intelligent B.O.W_ – that didn’t want to be caught. We did our best.”

“Bullshit,” the redhead spat. “That’s fucking bullshit. You--” He clenched his fists, his head giving a quick tilt as he willed away a nastier, potentially more physical response, and returned his gaze to the Wolf. “You _loved_ him. It was personal, because you loved him and he screwed you over – you… you two _fucked_. If anyone could have saved him, it would have been you. He was catching feelings for you, too, Chris. You read that part, right? I’m sure you and your BSAA friends had a lau--” Jake didn’t have a chance to finish that thought as Chris’ fist collided with his cheek, sending him to the dirt. He was unprepared, but it was deserved.

_Snap out of it._

“I was the only one to read that journal,” the Wolf corrected him, his voice steady and firm. He watched as Jake pushed himself back into a seated position, his tongue clearing away a spot of blood at the corner of his mouth. “It was all handled professionally, with the upmost respect. As for what we had… That virus he injected himself with, his betrayal – it was _hard_ , Jake. It was so hard. I’m not ignorant; I know he felt it, too. What we had, it wasn’t just a fling. There was _something_. There was value. But he had the determination of a rabid dog. He wanted what he wanted, and I couldn’t allow that, because it was _hurting_ people. I lost a lot of friends because of him. This was deeper than you could ever imagine, Jake. More than what’s documented. It was so fucking complicated. And it _still_ is. I can… I can feel this loss, this hole in my heart. I’ve felt it since 1998.”

The mercenary swallowed the lump in his throat, or was it another rant. His nostrils flared and his eyes closed. It was dark, now. He was tired. So, so tired. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, swallowing the rage, the guilt, the urge to break Chris’ nose. “I’m sorry for what he did to you, your friends – to Jill.”

“You’re not supposed to apologize for his sins, Jake.”

“I’m trying to be sympathetic. Let me be sympathetic.”

The Wolf exhaled through his nose and ran a heavy hand over the man’s crown. Fatherly. He was almost surprised the redhead didn’t move away, he didn’t flinch, but rather leaned into the touch as if he’s been craving that kind of attention his entire life. Or he was too tired to fight him off. Either way, Chris smiled and drew him against his larger frame, feeling him sag. “It’s okay to grieve for him. It’s okay to not grieve for him. You have that choice and no one can take that from you. And if anyone wants to give you trouble because of your connection with him, I’ll help you give it right back.”

\----

 **7:34** **AM  
** _The next morning…_

“Sleep well?”

Jake sat up and rubbed his face. _No._ “Yeah, I guess.” He twisted his body to look at the Wolf. He was sitting closer to the edge, his face tired and golden eyes half-lidded, as if he didn’t get a bit of sleep. The younger man expelled a breath and turned his gaze towards the camp next, giving it a once over, checking on things as he usually did. It was quiet, save for the coyotes yelling in the distance, signaling their morning hunt. “Might pack up and move today,” he murmured. “Go north.” He stood, dusting off his rear. “How will you get back?”

Chris got to his feet, his knee popping. He was getting old. “I’ll call a helicopter.” It was how he got there; some comrades had dropped him off nearby and he walked the rest of the way. A bad, uncomfortable idea, considering the sweltering heat, but it was worth it. The Wolf allowed an awkward silence to linger between them before clearing his throat, speaking again. “I wanted to ask you something – well, more like offer.” He waited for the redhead to look at him again, that cold stare piercing his soul like daggers. “Join the BSAA. I can train you. We can find placement for your friends, give them protection.”

The mercenary’s brow wrinkled in an angry squint. “Join the BSAA? Are you fucking kidding me. You _do_ remember who I am, right.”

“All the more reason for you to consider it. We can both benefit from it, Jake. You get the money and action you want and we get a valuable officer. You’ll be under me, as a captain.”

“How can I be so sure you won’t hurt my gang.”

“I’ll make sure they’re treated well. They’ll have their serums, boarding...”

Jake sneered and turned back to the camp. It was too early in the morning for this shit. He clicked his tongue. Annoyed. “They’ll be _my_ squad. I’ll be their captain. Train them, too.” They would be just as useful. Fight fire with fire, so they say.

“Very well.”

Again, a blanket of silence fell around them, though not as awkward, thank God. Chris could see the wheels turning, those strong arms crossed over a broad chest, a scowl present, twisting those handsome features into a troubled mass. He stepped closer and dared to touch him, his large hand gripping Jake’s shoulder. “I’ll give you the morning to think about it. Talk it over with your group.”


End file.
